


Desolation

by silenceia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceia/pseuds/silenceia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They called it the Radiance. When the world lit up. Seventeen years later, in a world hostile to humans, hunter and scavenger Harry Potter just wants to make his way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desolation

Something is watching him. But then, the Wastelands are never really empty. Just emptier than the rest of the world.

Movement in the corner of his eye. Harry resists the urge to turn and walks on. Dust wells up with every step he takes, the whistling wind obscures the imprints of his heavy boots. A look at the compass that always points to Haven, and he adjusts his course a minute bit.

Whatever watches him, it doesn’t attack. Instead it follows him, which suggests some manner of intelligence. Whether it plans to attack once he sleeps or recognises that Harry is capable of defending himself is debatable.

He keeps his crossbow at the ready like he always does. He hasn’t survived this long by relying on just magic. The dangerous creepers are resistant anyway.

Hours later, he finds an abandoned shelter, hardly more than roughly hewn stones stacked on top of each other to form walls. A metal sheet makes up the roof. It’s all Harry needs, though. The tent was with Nev when he got separated from the team. Damn corroded portkey.

“ _Duro_ ,” he murmurs, pressing his hands to the walls, hardening them. A sticking spell ensures that the roof won’t get blown away, after that he charms it harder as well.

There’s no door, so Harry hardens a blanket over the entrance.

He’ll have to renew the charms, they wouldn’t last through the night.

If he had a wand, he might be able to do more, but those are hard to come by. Unicorns went extinct. Dragons didn’t, but they are too hard to kill to expend the effort just to get a heartstring. And phoenixes are too rare. No one he knows had ever actually seen one since the Radiance.

Even if they had materials, there’s the matter of wood. It’d require finding a healthy, normal tree. If Harry ever found one, he sure as hell wouldn’t chop it. No, he’d bring it back to Haven for the others who might figure out how to grow more.

Night falls, and with it comes bitter cold. His cloak provides some warmth, having warming charms sewn in, so it protects against the worst of it. Not sure how long it’ll last, he’s had it for a while now.

Scrounging around in his pockets, he turns up a ration bar that would keep him going for a few days. Mum always insists that they all have some on them at all times, even at home. Just in case. Just like they always have to have weapons on them and protective cloaks and boots and amulets.

The night is long. The wind howls like it always does. And whatever had been stalking him during the day is now trying to get in, scratching at the walls, jumping on the roof. It tries to tear through it, but only makes horrible screeching noises against the metal.

Harry pulls out his notebook. Paper, too, is a precious commodity. They have some at Haven that they can duplicate, and his notebook is charmed to never run out of pages. But paper is damageable, not made to weather the elements. These days they hardly ever find legible books on scavenging trips.

He whiles away the hours by drawing. Things he’d seen, the shack, the wastelands. Notes on the area, maps of it, notes on the weather. If he didn’t make it back, maybe someone would find the notebook and report back to his mum.

 

* * *

 

At dawn, he makes his way outside. He doesn’t know just how far away from Haven he is, his compass can’t tell him that. Long-distance magic rarely works anymore.

His stalker sits on a large rock, hungry black eyes with red pupils fixed on Harry. A Revenant. There’s blood staining its mouth, indicating that it got to feed sometime last night, but Revs are always hungry.

Harry studies it. It stares back, hissing an odd _shishishi_ noise, and swipes its clawed fingers in his direction. Saliva drips from the mouth that is twisted in a demonic-looking grin, revealing sharp fangs still bloody from whatever it fed on.

It must be fairly new. The clothes it has on look mostly intact, it still has shoes, even. Oddly enough, there’s a tiara on its blond hair.

Harry eventually shrugs and turns, on his way once more. If it didn’t attack, he wouldn’t either. Most survivors of the Radiance think Revenants little more than zombie-like flesh eaters that would devour any living being in their never-ending hunger. Harry isn’t really any different, but he’s got good instincts, and he just can’t forget that they used to be people once, mutated by the radiation.

Hagrid had been a friend before he’d turned. Then he’d attempted to devour Ginny and killed Frank and Dedalus before Alice and Charlie could stop him and put him to rest. Harry was seven back then. Two months later Ron had fallen to the radiation as well. He’d been too young to remember it, but Aunt Petunia’s husband nearly killed her and their son two years after the Radiance because of turning Rev.

They have the amulets now, and Luna’s Mum had devised wards to keep the radiation out of Haven. But the memory remains.

The Revenant keeps stalking him as he walks, trotting after him, sometimes on two feet, sometimes on all four of its spindly, too long limbs. Sometimes it bounds ahead and leaps on tall rocks to survey him from above with a predatory grin, saliva dripping from its mouth.

Sometime in the early afternoon, its attentions shift to the sky, it stares up with unerring attention. “ _Shishishi,_ ” it cackles. Harry follows its gaze. Something’s flying there. A large bird. Too large. He shifts his crossbow, aims.

Something makes him glance to the side.

The revenant is _watching_ him with eerie focus, like it knows exactly what Harry’s doing with that crossbow. It _shishishies_ mockingly, as if enjoying Harry’s alarm.

Harry shoots the not-bird when it’s just above them. It only takes one shot. He never misses a shot, not after so many years of practice.

The moment the bolt hits, the revenant goes for the corpse.

“Wait!” Harry calls.

It freezes, looks back at him, hisses angrily. Harry freezes, too. _Calm now, no sudden movements_.

“I need the bolt back,” he says soothingly. “I don’t got much ammo for my crossbow. You can eat the bird. I ain’t hungry, promise.”

It hisses again, crouches in a hostile way. Its eyes are fixed on Harry’s weapon. Slowly, Harry lets it sink, shifts it on his back, raises empty palms. Which really should give the Rev more alarm, but he’s got no way to know what Harry’s capable of.

After a moment, the beast backs away slowly until the dead bird is between them. It’s an ugly thing, large, disproportioned. Only the wings are feathered, the rest of its body is covered in scaly skin like a snake’s, its head is snake-like, too. The crossbow bolt sticks in the soft underside of its belly. Harry swallows and crouches down, shuffling closer, not taking his eyes of his stalker.

He reaches for the bolt and yanks it out.

It happens in an instant. The snake-bird’s eyes spring open and it goes straight for Harry’s throat. At the same time there’s an infernal snarl and white claws grab its neck before it reaches Harry. The Revenant snarls at Harry and then dives down. The bird shrieks and flaps its wings while it is devoured alive.

Harry raises an eyebrow and lowers his Soulfire-filled hand. He turns away from the carnage. Stupid rookie mistake. He should have shot the damn bird twice more to be safe.

Though it was rather enlightening to see that the Revenant does apparently have an interest in his continued survival.

 

* * *

 

That night, he hunkers down in a tiny cave. It’s secluded enough that he risks making a tiny fire.

His revenant companion eyes it curiously, hovering just outside the wardline Harry had drawn. “So,” he says. “Since ye’re apparently stickin’ around, how ‘bout we give ya a name?”

“Shishishi,” it cackles.

“Are ya okay with Shi for a name?” Harry asks. Hostile hiss, bared teeth.  “’kay, that’s a no.” Harry tilts his head and considers the tiara on its head. “How ‘bout Prince?”

It stops hissing. “Prince it is.” Harry studies the newly named Prince. “Why haven’t ya attacked me yet?”

Prince just cackles mockingly. Harry shrugs. It isn’t important anyway. “Well, my name’s Harry. Seventeen years old, scavenger and hunter, Child of the Radiance.” He pauses. “That means I was born after it happened.” Harry scratches his head. “Though you probably don’t know what happened. Most people don’t. Muggles assume it was jus’ nuclear fallout.”

Prince tilts his head.

“Ya actually understand what I’m saying, huh?” Harry murmurs, studying him. “How odd.”

But then, weirder things had happened. Just look at Ginny… but that’s neither here nor there.

“Okay, I’ll tell ya ‘bout it.” He opens his notebook, thumbs through it to a page at the beginning. There’s a picture of an ugly snakelike face. He shows it to Prince, who snorts in a rather unimpressed way. Yeah, there are lots of scarier creepers around now. “There was this guy named Voldemort. Dark Wizard Lord. Tried ta take over Magical Britain for some stupid reason or other, ain’t really important no more. My parents were some of the ones fightin’ him, but that ain’t all that important either.

“Anyway, Voldemort decided that his forces weren’t large enough, so he went recruitin’ in other countries. Got pissed off ‘bout some stuff, had a bunch of people assassinated. Sent some in a panic. Problem is, that was during the Cold War, which the magicals had their own version off. An’ Voldemort just went and killed off the ones who pissed him off, who just happened to be the guys keeping everyone from murderin’ each other.” Harry turns the page to a picture of Fiendfyre. His Mum had even animated it for him. “Didn’t take long for someone to send the magical equivalent of a nuke at someone else. Not sure who made the first move, but the others continued it. Then the muggles of course thought _they_ were getting attacked since they didn’t know shit ‘bout magic, and sent actual nukes at their muggle enemies who they _thought_ did the attacking, and boom. We call it the Radiance. When the world lit up.” Harry laughs bitterly. “Not sure how much of the world population died then. The real shit happened afterward. See, atomic bombs cause nuclear radiation. Which is bad enough on its own, seein’ as it causes cancer and shit. What _wasn’t_  common knowledge was that some of those magical weapons of mass destruction, they had radiation, too. Magical radiation, which would normally have affected only magicals, which woulda sucked enough, but the nuclear radiation somehow affected muggles in a way that made them susceptible as well, and then it was animals and plants too and…” Harry rubs his hands over his face. “And then there were the biological weapons. Combine that with radiation of any kind, and you get this.”

He turns the page to images of wasteland. Monsters. Revenants.

“Most of the plant and animal life was destroyed. Most of humanity, too.” His mouth twists. “During the Radiance, the air was saturated with magical radiation and caused pretty much all technology to crash. No more phones, so no communication. Heating or air-conditioning? Forget it. When the weather went crazy, too, people froze or got heatstroke. Everything dependant on electricity was dead. On the magical side, the magical radiation fucked up all ranged magic, and by that I mean all magic that needs to travel farther than ten metres. Wards corroded, then crashed. Houses held up by magic collapsed. Apparition inevitably led to splinching. And then we have this.”

Harry shows Prince the next page. “Magical plants,” he spits darkly. “Normally kept in greenhouses under lock and key. They got out. And they thrived. I once saw a Venomous Tentacula that devoured an entire _village._ And a Devil’s Snare the size of a castle that could _walk_ right in the _sunlight_.” He looks at the Revenant. “The drawing on the page shows exactly that." Harry shudders. “Many magical creatures were warped, too, and they _are_ dangerous, but the plants are the real danger. It’s why the surviving humans stick to the dry Wastelands and salt the ground they don’t need. Plants need water. Or blood. Most of everything that didn’t die turned carnivorous.”

He looks at his revenant companion. “And then there are the humans,” he says softly. “But ya know that part, don’t ya? Turning into ravenous flesh-eaters, beasts driven only by hunger. Inhumanly strong and fast, resistant to magical attacks, supposedly not capable of reason. How come ye’re different?”

Prince snorts. Harry sighs. “Whatever, buddy. Ya mind if I draw ya?”

He could have sworn that the revenant preened just now.

 

* * *

 

The wardline fails while Harry is asleep, but he’s still alive when he wakes up. Prince is curled up next to the fire. Do Revenants need warmth? Harry never wondered before. Generally, if he saw one, he’d shoot them down. From a distance.

Mentally shrugging, he conjures them some water - most important skill for survivors everywhere - and gets a move on after drinking.

The company is a bit dubious, but it’s nice to have some at all.

“My mum, she was an Unspeakable,” he tells Prince. “A magical researcher. An’ when that shit went down, she said screw it, she’d keep her unborn child safe, grabbed husband and what friends she could find, an’ holed up in the Department of Mysteries. It was underground and pretty much the safest place from outside attacks. When they went outside again, London was gone, an’ pretty much the rest of the world, too.”

“Shishishi,” Prince says.

“Yeah, it sucked,” Harry answers, choosing to interpret the Revenant’s noise as commiseration, though the disconcerting grin suggests otherwise. “They scrounged up what survivors they could find, Mum went and found her sister and her family, an’ then they left the country, Britain wasn’t really liveable anymore. Got bombed, too, ya know. Not sure if it was magical or muggle bombing, but it hardly matters. Anyway, my dad’s family was loaded, they actually had a magical cruise ship, so they took that to leave the country. Went to France first, family had a vacation manor there. Stayed there a bit, until the giants started coming down from the mountains and Greyback and his werewolf pack started seizing territory, then they took the ship and went somewhere else.” Harry looks around. “This used to be called Italy. Ya probably knew that already.”

“Shishishi,” Prince cackles.

“The ship got damaged in a storm. That was ‘round the time the magical radiation started corroding even enchanted objects and runes. Anyway, we’re stuck in this country now. Made a home here, sort of.” Harry sighs. “People started turning Rev about two years after the Radiance. Mum says no one coulda seen it coming. The radiation had slowly poisoned everyone for years by then, all it needed was a trigger. Not everyone mutated, but more than enough - one outta seven. My aunt’s husband was the first of our group. Then a few years later, Hagrid. Half-giant. Nicest man in the world, good friend. No one saw it coming. He’d been eating more than normal in the days before, and complained of pain in his joints. That’s all. Then my friend Ginny, she saw him standin’ there droolin’ in the backyard. Went up to ask him if he was alright. He stared at her and then- well. Lost some good men that day.

“My friend Ron, he was next. The adults, they thought children were safe, ‘cuz our bodies could adapt to the radiation or some shit, was the assumption. Then Ron, he’d always been a bit of a glutton so no one thought much about it when he ate more in the days before. Then he turned, and his accidental magic went boom. And he was near the greenhouses. So the harvest was small that year, and a lot of the seeds were destroyed, too. They had to start going out and get food from outside. Didn’t work out so well for a lot of people.”

Including Harry’s dad. James Potter was ripped to pieces by a herd of bowtruckles that had grown so large, they could disguise themselves as trees. James Potter’s group of six thought they were walking into a forest. Only one of them made it out, and it wasn’t Harry’s father.

“Most magical creatures mutated. More affected by the radiation, I guess. Luna says it’s because they were more sensitive to it.” Harry shakes his head. “The only exception we know of are dragons. Or at least, one dragon.”  

Harry’s throat is getting dry, so they stop for five minutes for some water. “We’ve got the amulets now, they’re supposed to protect us from turning. Must be working, no one’s turned since we got them, but you never know, right?”

“Shishishi.”

“No, I don’t know if they help if ye’re already turned, but I’ll get ya one anyway, ‘kay? Maybe Mum can figure out some way to help ya. If ya promise not to eat any of us.”

“Shishishi…”

“Yeah, we’ll feed ya. I’ll shoot ya creepy birds’n stuff, like before. Maybe the ration bars will work for ya, too. Otherwise, ya can go huntin’ with Ginny, when she goes out to feed Carnie. Carnie is… Well, you’ll see.”

The day wears on. Harry talks about anyone and anything. It’s better than thinking about how shitty his situation is, stuck with hardly any supplies in the middle of the Wastes and only a Revenant for company.

“We were lookin’ for a friend of ours,” he tells Prince. “Ced sent a distress signal. When we got there, we were set on by a swarm of Gillyweeds. Crawled out of the river, like Kraken. We activated our portkeys. Turns out mine was corrupted. I’m lucky I wasn’t blasted to pieces, just got sent who-knows-where. God, I hope the others are alright. Hestia is one thing, but Nev? We can’t lose Nev. He and Luna are the only ones who can actually make sense of what’s going on with the plants and animals here.” Harry shakes his head. “He wouldn’t stay home though. Stubborn as hell.”

Cedric… “There was blood on the ground. Led into the water.” Harry grits his teeth, fights the sting in his eyes. “We’ll have a funeral for him when I get back.”

Wouldn’t be his first.

Definitely not the last, either.

* * *

 

Three days Harry walks. The Wasteland seems to stretch on forever.

Prince makes a surprisingly good hunting partner. Not as good as Harry’s lovely partner, the vicious Stymphalian Owl Hedwig, but he lets Harry eat some of the spoils, though he acts as if he’d cut of his own arm to feed Harry instead of letting him have one bloody rib-thing of some hound-like thing.

“Arse,” Harry mutters. Hedwig would have let him have at least two ribs. But she got hurt a while back and is still being nursed back to health by Luna and Charlie, so Harry’s been on his own for a month.

Prince snickers at him.

Better company than no company at all, Harry reminds himself. And not half as disconcerting as the Ginny and Carnie combo.

Combo in the most literal sense. Ginny is a terrifying person.

“Here we go again.” Harry dusts himself off - an exercise in futility, dust is omnipresent unless it rains, then it’s just mud.

Late afternoon, or at least Harry thinks it is, they come across an abandoned settlement. There are still bones there. The buildings still mostly intact, which suggests a creature attack, not a plant one - plants rarely leave _anything_.

Unfortunately, Harry finds nothing useful. “I’m thinkin’ it was a goblin raid” he tells Prince darkly. “Fuckin’ bastards. Hungry beasts are one thing, but goblins actually _set out_ just to find the next human meal. Or slave, we ain’t sure what exactly they do with captured humans, but they prefer takin’ ‘em alive. Ya ever see a goblin, get the fuck away. Where there’s one, there’ll be at least twenty more. They hunt in groups.”

One more reason to stay away from the mountains. Goblins like mountain regions. Harry’s mum says they likely have their cave systems there, where they sit on all the precious metal and gemstones like riches even matter in a world like this.

More problematic is the fact that goblins can forge their own weapons. Seeing as they hadn’t become mindless beasts like so many other things. Not, they’d just gotten more beastly. “Prefer to walk on all fours. Can cling to walls and cave ceilings like spiders. Prefer to hunt at night. Skin like iron. They’re sensitive to light though, and their magical skills have deteriorated. Still, given how strong their bodies are, that’s not much of a comfort. Let’s get the hell outta here. We won’t find anythin’.”

 

* * *

 

“I know this rock,” Harry declares.

Prince looks entirely unimpressed.

“It _might_ look a generic rock, but-” Harry touches his hand to it and wipes away a layer of dust. Nordic rune script carved into the surface is revealed. “If you think it’s a message to lone wanderers in need of help, ye’re dead wrong. It translates to _Luna wuz here_.” Harry laughs fondly, shaking his head. “Haven’s about seven hours from ’ere. If we hurry, we can make it before nightfall.”

Prince hops after him.

“We’ll need to be careful,” Harry murmurs at some point. “There’s a river not too far. Travel route for anythin’ water-reliant.”

Haven is located on the outskirts of the wastelands. Just a few hours away from areas with more action. But hardly anything finds Haven. It’s well-hidden and protected. Several saltwater moats and a few with mild acids to keep out the plants, and any creatures could be seen from miles away. And they do have wards. Need to be constantly checked and recharged, but they do work to keep out radiation and pollen and all that shit that could seriously fuck up their lives.

He doesn’t talk as they make their way toward home. That’d be just stupid, to get himself noticed by some shit just hours from Haven. Mum would kill him for that kind of idiocy.

Prince is silent as well. Silent as in, makes no noise _at all_ , moves like a bloody ghost. Creepy, that. Harry’s not complaining though, if the Revenant had wanted to kill him, well, there’d been more than enough chances.

Thing is, the really dangerous things always move silently. The two of them reach a slope, Harry knows the way from here. They just have to cross through a crevice and a ravine, and then home wouldn’t be far anymore.

But when they step through the crevice, the path through the ravine is blocked. Before them towers a Whomping Willow. A large one, somewhere between forty and fifty feet tall, with wide, sweeping branches and blood red leaves. The bloody remains of some dinosaur-like beast are trapped within its roots, roots which had dug deep into its flesh. A blood drinker then.

The ground under Harry trembles. With a curse he throws himself to the side, and jumps on a large rock. Where he just stood, roots explode from the ground, rocks spraying everywhere. The tree groans, branches rustling in agitation. Harry curses when he sees roots creeping up and blocking the way back. More roots creep over the ground, a fine net that would trap anyone that stepped on it.

“Fine,” Harry hisses. “I’ll send ya straight to hell.” He fires his crossbow. The bolts burrow deeply into the knots where trunk and root meet and burst into blazing flames.

The tree _shrieks_. Roots shoot from the ground trying to dowse Harry’s Soulfire, but it won’t extinguish until Harry says so - or until he dies.

The rock under him shudders and Harry dives off as it is thrown up and against rockface where it shatters into a million pieces. Harry lands on the root-covered ground and immediately sets it aflame. And keeps moving and running, because to stand still is to die. The tree knows where he is. And it won’t be defeated so easily by two shots of his crossbow.

The willow roars. A horribly cracking and ripping sound, and the burning wood is shattered off the still unburnt parts, and Harry has to duck under burning projectiles. A shadow falls on him, and he can only just roll out of the way of a mighty branch that splits the ground as it misses Harry. Then it sweeps to the side and flings his body into the rockface. Harry shifts mid-flight and fire bursts from his palms, braking his flight and saving him from the impact.

Below him, a vicious hiss sounds. Prince does _not_ appreciate the attack _at all_. And he might not be able to fly, but he’s too fast for any root or branch to catch anyway. All Harry sees is a blond blur flitting around, and red sparks disintegrating tree parts in his wake.

He lands on a tiny ledge and fires more bolts, aiming at the roots and trunk - the branches aren’t too dangerous, the roots on the other hand could attack from _anywhere,_ so if he disconnects them… His aim strikes true, as it always does. The tree shrieks again. The knots at the foot of the tree burst into flame one by one. But below Harry the roots creep up again, so he flings himself off the ledge and flies with Soulfire-filled palms. “Prince, get outta there!” he shouts. With grim determination he raises his arms at the Whomping Willow which immediately propels him back at the rockface, but he lands feet first, and his Soulfire is stronger than the force of gravity, he stands horizontally on the cliff. “Burn, you rotten piece of shit!” Harry growls and _fires_. Flames stream from his hand, bathing the world in light.

The tree screams as it is consumed by bright orange and gold fire.

When it’s over, Harry falls onto the hot ash-covered ground, rolling over his shoulder. “Ugh,” he groans. The heat of the ash is uncomfortable on his skin, so he forces himself to get up. He feels cold now, having spent so much of his power. “You alright there, Prince?”

“Shishishi,” the Revenant cackles. He’s covered in ash from head to toe but looks disturbingly happy, sitting on a charred piece of wood.

“Glad to hear it,” Harry mutters looking around. “Let’s get the fuck outta here. Anything with eyes is goin’ to be here _soon_.”

And he wouldn’t be able to pull that kind of move again for a while.

 

* * *

 

They’re too slow to get to Haven before nightfall. Twilight is creeping up on them, the last rays of sun painting the rocks red. The land is getting flatter. In the distance waits a mountain. A volcano, long since fallen dormant. They call it Requiem Mountain.

Haven is located inside the crater. Almost home.

Almost doesn’t count. A shriek sounds from above, as familiar as it is terrifying. The beast blots out the sun, the wingspan easily reaching that of a dragon’s. It shrieks again, demonic red eyes fixed on Harry hungrily. Prince hisses at it in anger, crouching.

The next time the King-Thestral shrieks, already diving down with its maw wide open, Harry’s crossbow bolt shoots into its mouth, but the beast crushes it between its teeth. Harry dives behind a house-sized rock, the wings shaving half of it off as the Thestral sweeps past. Harry’s next shot hits from behind where wing and horse-body meet, and its flight is abruptly cut short when the crossbow bolt bursts into flames. The Thestral screeches and turns angrily, one wing hanging uselessly, strings of muscle cut and burned.

It rises on its hindlegs, clawed front legs hitting air. The ground shakes when they hit the ground again and the beast starts to run at Harry. The crossbow bolt to the snout is shaken off, only makes it angrier. Harry lights his hands on fire once again readying for close combat against the monster.

And then out of nowhere a green vine wraps around one foreleg and _pulls_. The beast falls, more vines creeping up immediately. The creature struggles, shrieking now in terror rather than anger.

Harry shifts his crossbow on his back. Prince next to him makes a sound of confusion.

The source of the vines slowly saunters up to the now barely moving Thestral. Ginny Weasley looks at Harry, smirk on her face. “Well hello there, damsel'n distress,” she drawls. “Thought I saw yer soulfire back there.” She jerks her head into the direction that he came from.

Harry grins. “Yer a sight for sore eyes, Gin. Way prettier than some stinkin’ Whompin’ Willow, that’s for sure.”

“Naturally.” Ginny strokes the vines coming from her shoulder. “Easy, Carnie-love.”

The vines don’t answer, of course. Just continue to drink the blood of the Thestral.

Ginny Weasley was six when a ravenous Revenant-Hagrid ripped her arm off.

She was eight when she had enough of being cooped up inside by her overprotective family and ventured outside where she was attacked by a mutated Snargaluff, a plant that looks like a stump, until it senses prey, which is when it lets free thorny vines to drag prey into the trunk to be digested. But Ginny was no prey. Destroyed the stump, she did. Which contained the digestive organs, where bodies are made into whatever foodstuff a Snargaluff needs. So the vines latched onto Ginny instead, who had just Awakened purple Soulfire and could supply them with that to keep them from dying. It’s the world’s creepiest symbiosis, Ginny with the vines growing out of her shoulder, and being able to make them grow at a moment’s notice. She regularly has to feed them blood, which meant she had to become a hunter. Her parents and remaining brothers were horrified. Still are. Not that she cares.

“Nev an’ Hestia made it back alright?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. Only yer sorry arse was missing. Been lookin’ for a while, Hunter.” Ginny gives him a glare, then her gaze locks on Prince. A vine shoots towards the Revenant. Harry’s hand snatches forward and burns it off.

“Friend,” he says. “Saved my arse out there. Gonna introduce him to Mum.”

“Tch,” she scoffs, but calls her plant back. “Momma’s boy.”

“And proud of it,” Harry grins.

Prince hisses at her. Ginny hisses back immediately, hazel eyes shifting to purple as her temper rises. The vines coil around her, still dripping blood from the now dead Thestral.

“Stop,” Harry orders. “Both of you.”

Ginny shoots him an incredulous look. Prince hisses angrily, bares his fangs at Harry.

“I mean it.” He puts as much authority in his voice as he can. He’s a team leader, damn it. Ginny might be terrifying, but as his second she has to listen to him. “He ain’t no normal Rev, Gin. Got a clear mind, ain’t controlled by hunger. Maybe Mum can help him. Maybe we can find a cure.”

Ginny twitches, amethyst glare fixed on the Revenant. “Yer _uncle_ nearly killed Petunia and D. My _brother_ had ta be put down ‘cuz he turned Rev. I lost my feckin’ _arm_ cuz Hagrid went crazy. There ain’t no sanity in there! Maybe this one’s got some brains, but those things got good noses. Probably smelled people on ya, thought it could devour some more folks if he left ya live!”

“He’s got Soulfire!” Harry shouts. “That means he’s got a soul! C'mon Prince, show her!”

Prince snarls at them, backing off slowly. Opens his mouth wide. And spits a glob of red fire into Ginny’s growing mass of vines. She hisses and jumps back, liveless separated pieces of greenery falling.

“See?” Harry says. He steps in front of her, grabs her shoulders. Calls on his Soulfire, leans his forehead against hers. “Gin, please.”

She growls and pushes him away.

“Dammit.” She looks at the vine stumps and propagates them to a workable length. “I _just_ fed Carnie.”

Harry breathes out. “We’ll find ya some other monster to feed to yer creepy blood-drinkin’ Snargaluff.” He steps back. “So, introductions. Prince, this is Ginevra Weasley, my best friend and vice leader of Team Wildfire, which incidentally I’m leader of. Gin, this is Prince, the Revenant.”

“Pleasure,” she says flatly.

Prince grins and sketches a bow.

“What the Hades,” Ginny utters. Harry grins.

“So now that we’ve got that behind us,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s dark by the time they cross the wards halfway up Requiem Mountain. Prince visibly shudders, but is otherwise not bothered. He looks curiously at the moats gouged into the hard ground, filled with saltwater that looks oddly jelly-like - they had to thicken it because the sun would vaporise it otherwise.

The last moat is so broad that they’d have to cross the drawbridge - if they were anybody else, that is. Ginny propagates Carnie to obscene length and swings herself across. Harry blasts himself over with his Soulfire. Prince simply leaps across.

“Ach! Why did we even build that thing,” a familiar voice complains.

“Sorry, Minerva,” Harry apologises.

“Harry! Lad, you gave us a scare!” An elderly woman with a pinched face bustles over to them. “It is good to have you back and- what is _that!_ ”

Harry grabs her hand that suddenly holds a wand. “It’s okay. Trust me. He saved my life.”

“He’s a-”

“Revenant,” a light voice finishes. A grin spreads over Harry’s face. A small silhouette sits atop the raised drawbridge. “I’ve watched them since they started climbing up. It is fine, Minerva.”

“I’m home, Mum,” he says softly.

Lily Potter hops down. The green pacifier around her infant-neck glows gently, illuminating her smile. Prince hisses in surprise. Her green eyes look deeply into his before her smile widens. She turns to Harry, holds her arms out. He obligingly picks her up and holds her close. “I’m home,” he repeats.

Tiny arms wrap around Harry’s neck. “Welcome home, son.”


End file.
